Ashes to Ashes Heart to Heart
by Auntieoaty
Summary: My thoughts beyond the season 3 finale. SPOILERS!


**SPOILERS!**

Branch yanked his cell phone from the side pocket of his shooting bag and dialed the Sheriff's Office.

Vic's voice resounded across the line, "Absaroka County Sheriff's Office, Deputy Moretti."

"Vic it's me."

"Branch?" He sounded stronger than he had in recent weeks.

"Yeah. Walt there?"

"No. What's up?"

Branch quickly explained he had evidence against his dad in Martha's murder, that they had been out skeet shooting, and his dad had tried to distract him so he could kill him. Branch then added flatly, "I shot him Vic."

"Shit! Is he dead?"

"Not yet."

"Shit, Branch you could have started with that! Where _exactly_ are you?"

Branch gave her their location and a couple of key landmarks to aid in her finding them.

Vic scratched out a note to Ferg telling him she had a call of a shooting but omitted any details. Snatching Ferg's name plate, she used it as a paperweight for the note and left it centered on his desk.

She grabbed an extra trauma kit and scrambled down to her unit. Approaching Ruby on the steps Vic said, "Left a note for Ferg. I'll call in in a few minutes."

"What do you want me to tell Walt?"

"Nothing!" She snapped in her haste. The shocked look on the older woman's face registered with Vic, "Sorry Ruby. Just, well, just don't say anything to him until I call in. Okay?"

Ruby's expression was pensive and guarded as she nodded her head, "Okay. But don't you get yourself into trouble or worse."

Vic's mouth ticked up at one corner, "Thanks." She picked up her pace and bolted through the downstairs door and out to her truck.

She was surprised that she had had no trouble finding the location Branch had given her. She sped down the dirt trail, leaving a huge cloud of dust billowing behind her. Bringing her truck to a stop a few feet from Barlow's SUV, she shut the engine off, and jumped out. The older Connally was lying on his back in the dirt, a large blood stain spreading across the side of his shirt as Branch pressed against his side. She noticed Branch was clean-shaven and clear-eyed as he looked up at her; a bloody cloth under his hands and tension flexing his jaw.

"Branch what the hell happened?" Vic kept an eye on Branch as she moved to the rear door of her truck to remove the trauma kit. Kit in hand, she moved over to kneel next to Branch. She flipped the kit latches and swung the lid open. After donning a pair of gloves she nudged Branch out of the way as she replaced his pressure with her own. She spoke to the older man but he was unresponsive. Vic checked for a pulse and easily found one, so she tried again to get Barlow to respond to her; again with no success. She looked up at Branch, "Well?"

As Vic pulled the older man's shirt back to gain access to his wound, Branch began to speak. He quickly laid out all of the evidence he had against his father regarding Martha's murder. She noticed that although he spoke quickly Branch was very cogent; his statements made sense and flowed logically. Vic removed the cloth Branch had obviously placed inside Barlow's shirt before she arrived. Then carefully packed the wound with gauze and taped it down as snugly as possible. The wound was deep and she hoped not life-threatening as long as he didn't bleed to death on the way to the hospital. When she rolled him to the other side there were no signs of anything having gone through his back. It was also obvious that at some point he had hit the back of his head. Vic placed her knee against Barlow's back to keep him from rolling back over. Branch stepped closer when he saw her attempt to support Barlow and dress the wound on the back of his head at the same time. He kneeled on the other side and held his dad in place so Vic could finish applying the dressing.

Vic looked up at Branch and stated the obvious, "We gotta get'm to the hospital right away."

The two worked to lift the older man, and carry him to her unit. Between them they were able to get Barlow seated in the front seat and fasten the seatbelt. Vic noticed movement in the distance; someone was turning onto the dirt path. It did not take her long to realize it was Walt's Bronco.

She pushed her keys into Branch's hand, "Walt's coming." Branch took the keys and headed to the driver's door, as Vic stepped to the back passenger door and pulled out her crime scene kit. She slammed the door and yelled, "Go Branch! Get him outta here."

The presence of the owl reinforced Walt's gut instinct that the shot he heard was not a normal target shooting shot. He paused for a moment to mentally replay the sound, in order to zero in on which direction he should go before climbing into his truck. He slowed the Bronco as he reached each potential turnoff in order to look as far up the dirt trails as possible. It was not uncommon for people to use many of these trails to lead them to areas for target shooting, underage drinking, and other 'recreational activities'. After traveling a few very slow miles down the dirt road he spotted a couple of vehicles at the far end of a turnoff. He turned the Bronco and headed in the direction of a dark SUV and white pick-up. As he drew near, he realized that the truck was a Vic's unit and at that moment it was heading in his direction. Walt slowed the Bronco expecting Vic to stop and talk to him. Looking past her unit he saw Vic standing at the end of the turnoff trail. As he drew closer to her truck he saw Branch was driving; the two made eye contact briefly before Branch turned his eyes to the dirt trail and punched the accelerator.

Walt continued down the trail until he reached Vic's location. He slammed on the brakes, skid the Bronco to a stop, threw it in park, and flipped the ignition off. As he climbed out of the Bronco, he glared at Vic and demanded "What the hell's going on?! Why is Branch driving your truck?!"

Vic cocked one hip to the side placing her hand on that hip and extending the other toward Walt, "Give me your keys."

His expression shifted slightly from anger to bewilderment, "What?"

"Give me your keys."

"Tell me what's going on here."

"I will just as soon as you give me your keys."

Walt's gaze narrowed again but he said nothing as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder indicating the keys were still in the Bronco.

Vic stepped around him and the opened door; she reached in the Bronco and removed his keys, stuffing them in her pocket before snatching the mic from the radio. She stole a glance at Walt as she keyed the mic, "Ruby?"

"Vic? Vic, where are you? It's been a lot longer than 'a few minutes'." Ruby's voice held the edge of someone who had grown very worried.

"Ruby everything's alright. Walt's here so it's all okay. I'm fine. We'll check in again later on."

Relief was evident in the other woman's voice as she warned. "You better."

Vic smiled, "Promise." She hung the mic back on the clip and turned to get out of the Bronco.

Walt was standing with his hands on his hips and had clearly run out of patience. She straightened up and tried to think of where to start when Walt said, "You've got my keys. Now tell me what the hell is going on!"

She blinked slowly and reminded herself to remain calm and to control her tone as she tried not to sigh in frustration at the damned situation, "Okay. First, I needed your keys because I have to process this scene and I'm gonna need a ride when I'm done."

She shrugged and gave him what she hoped was an apologetic look before adding, "I forgot to get Barlow's keys." Vic skirted past Walt and headed back to the area where Branch and his dad were when he shot Barlow.

"Vic" his tone told her he was not going to wait any longer for answers.

She turned to face him grateful he had not moved any closer. Swallowing hard and silently cursing her suddenly dry mouth Vic held Walt's gaze and spoke softly as she started to relay the information she had received from Branch while triaging Barlow's wounds. Walt pushed the door closed and slowly moved around to the front of the Bronco as Vic continued to tell him what she knew. She did her best to deliver the news as gently as possible, her heart tightening as she watched the expressions play across Walt face; disbelief, pain, anger, and finally rage when he heard Barlow might already be dead. As quickly as rage registered on his face. He spun and punched the grill of his truck. Vic fell silent as she watched Walt's back raise and lower as he took one deep breath after another. She knew he was struggling to control his anger and calm himself, so she held her place and silently waited. As she watched him, she realized there was blood dripping on the ground next to his right boot. Stepping over to the open trauma kit Vic grabbed some alcohol swabs and gauze pads.

She turned toward Walt but hesitated. Clearing her throat Vic waited to see if he would look at her. As soon as he made eye contact with her, Vic eased toward him. "Let me see your hand."

Walt stared at her as if he did not understand.

Vic stepped up to him, set the first aid supplies on the hood of the Bronco, and opened an alcohol wipe. Being as careful as she could Vic lifted Walt's hand and glanced up at him as she started to dab his bloodied knuckles. He just stood there staring at his hand as though he had no idea how it had been injured. After thoroughly cleaning his knuckles, Vic pressed a large gauze pad across the wounded skin, and held pressure against the bandage. She kept her focus on his hand, not daring to look up at him again while maintaining pressure on his knuckles for a couple of minutes. At one point she glanced at the grill amazed that he had missed the steel cow catcher on the front. She listened as his breathing slowed and tried to think of what to say to him. Risking a glance up to Walt's face and found him gazing down at her.

She cradled his hand with one of hers as she reached over for his left hand, "Here hold this," she said as she placed his left hand over the gauze pad, before stepping back to the trauma kit for some tape. Vic secured the gauze pad with some tape and stepped away from Walt. She dropped the tape in the trauma kit and began processing the scene. It was quite a while before Walt turned around and watched her; even longer before he spoke.

"Vic?" His voice was strained almost hesitant.

She looked over to see Walt staring at her, pain etched deeply in his features. Her body reacted without her thinking about it; she stood and walked over to him, a questioning expression on her face.

Walt glanced at his bandaged hand indicating the connection to his words, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"Don't. Don't say anything. You've been looking for this information for a long time; it's only natural that you would be angry, hearing he may die before you can get all your questions answered." She couldn't bring herself to say Barlow's name now that Walt knew he was responsible for his wife's murder.

"Yeah? But, I can't keep losing my temper."

"Is it a good thing to destroy your office, clear Branch's desk with a wide swipe of your arms, or hit the front of your truck? No. ..."

Walt reached out with his left hand and gently stroked a finger along the length of her nose. "I hit you too."

"You didn't mean it."

"No, I meant to hit Nighthorse." He dropped his hand to his side.

""He was antagonizing you."

"Still not a good reason, Vic." The self-recriminating tone and look of shame on Walt's face was more than Vic could stand. She instinctively reached out and wrapped her arms around Walt's waist.

Walt hesitated just long enough to draw a quick breath then he drew his arms around Vic's shoulders and buried his face against her neck.

Vic stroked his back and tried to make her argument. "Walt you're entitled to your feelings; pain, anger, frustration, guilt they've all been roiling just under the surface for you. For what, four years? They were bound to break through no matter how hard you tried to hold them in."

"I can't go around punching the citizenry when they make me mad." Walt sagged back against the front of the Bronco. The brim of his hat hit her left shoulder and tumbled to the ground as his forehead came to rest against that shoulder. He slid a short way down and stopped when his butt hit the bumper. Not much of a seat but he didn't seem to notice. His arms drifted down Vic's arms and settled around her waist.

His movements caused Vic to step sideways and stand between his knees. She slipped her arms up, brought them around his shoulders, and held him tightly. The tips of her fingers brushed through the hair behind his right ear as she cradled his head against her shoulder and murmured encouragement to him. Things like 'it's gona to be okay', 'he had friends who were there for him' and anything else she could think of along those lines, tumbled out of her mouth.

Walt sighed, "I'm so tired, Vic."

Not sure she heard him correctly she pulled back from him slightly and asked, "What?"

Walt rested his forehead against her shoulder for a moment and then tilted his face toward hers a little bit in order to be heard better, but kept his eyes closed, "I let Martha go this morning," he exhaled heavily.

Vic sighed, "Oh Walt," as she wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. Her heart constricted at the thought that he had finally found the strength to let go of his wife's ashes and then learned he may never be able to confront the man responsible for his loss. Vic held on to him trying to give him strength as well as comfort. They stayed in the embrace for several minutes, Vic gently rocking Walt, rubbing his back with one hand and gently stroking his hair and neck with the other.

After a while Walt lifted his head from her shoulder and shift slightly to putting his forehead against hers. Looking into her eyes he started with, "I'm sorry, Vi…" but stopped when she raised her eyebrow in warning instead he said "Thanks," although it sounded more like a question than a statement.

Vic smiled warmly at him and whispered, "You're welcome." Her emotions were running wild and she did not trust herself to say anything else at the moment. She had never seen Walt so vulnerable and it scared her just a little to think of how he might withdraw into himself once he realized just how much he had shown her.

His expression and the clarity of his eyes told her he had regained his composure and he was returning to his normal self. Walt didn't so much lift his head from hers as he rolled his chin downward in a movement that was so smooth and fluid that Vic barely registered the brush of his lips to hers before he had put some distance between them by leaning back. His hands slid from her lower back, around her waist, down the sides of her hips and landed on his thighs.

Holding his eyes with hers Vic allowed her arms to relax and her hands to slide forward to his shoulders. One side of her mouth crooked up into a hint of a smile and she narrowed her gaze the slightest bit, "Did you just kiss me?"

He held his neutral expression, "Kinda. That a problem?"

Vic pursed her lips in thought, her eyes rolling up to the side and then back to his, she shook her head, "Nope." Her hands pushed their way back up to the base of his hair and held his head just long enough for her to press her lips against his briefly but firmly. Releasing his head and stepping back a half a step she asked, "That a problem?"

Walt smirked at her and shook his head almost unperceptively, his eyes rose slightly with his answer, "Nope."

"Good." Vic turned on one heel and headed back to processing the evidence from the shooting.

A few moments later Vic shifted to another area and a new position. Her current location allowed her to see Walt from the corner of her eye. She saw him bend to pick up his hat. Looking up at him she caught him rubbing his butt. He looked at her and grinned sheepishly, "Not the best choice of seating when bearing one's soul."

Vic couldn't help but grin back, "I guess not." She was strangely relieved to know that he realized he had shown her his deep vulnerability and he seemed to be okay with that knowledge.

Walt offered Vic assistant as she processed the scene but she firmly refused arguing she did not want there to be any chance of questions of compromised evidence or other issues coming up in the event Barlow lived to face a jury. And Walt was going to have to make a decision regarding Branch and his job and she didn't want this situation to influence Walt any more than it already had; positively or negatively. She left him to his own thoughts a while as she worked and tried to sort out her own thoughts; primarily those centered on her kissing Walt on purpose after he brushed his lips to hers. She didn't really consider his a kiss, which meant she had kissed her boss. Where did that put them? What damage had she done? She wasn't clear on what she felt but she knew she could only think of kissing Walt as a mistake.

When he offered to help her again Vic realized he was antsy. Again she refused his help but conceded, "I'm sure you're probably gettin' bored waiting on me, I'm sorry. I'm working as quickly as I can but I wanna be thorough and make sure it's done right."

Walt sighed and gave her a sort of apologetic look, "I know. I'll leave you alone so you can finish."

"No."

Misunderstanding the single word Walt said, "I'm not leaving just gonna let you alone while you're working."

She glanced up at him and gave him a crooked grin, "Didn't think you were leaving. I still have your keys."

"Right."

He paced a bit more and Vic requested softly, "Talk to me?"

"About?"

"Anything." He stopped pacing and studied her a long while. As Vic kept working Walt started and stopped speaking several times his hesitation made his nervousness evident and caused Vic to look up at him, "It's okay."

"What?"

"You can talk about Martha if you want."

"Oh."

The way he said the one word told her he was surprised that she had read him so well. Vic turned back to her tasks trying to give Walt the space, permission, and encouragement to open up to her. He stopped pacing and started talking again and then paused. She remained silent and willed herself not to look up at him; all she could think was invading his space by looking at him would probably stop him trying altogether. After a minute or so he resumed pacing and soon after the words started to flow. Vic was surprised that he was relating to her how, where, and why he had chosen that morning to let Martha go. She kept her eyes off of him for fear of stopping his words. Walt spoke as though he were simply remembering and relating any average event. He had stuttered and stammered at the start but then he slowed his pacing and suddenly seemed to be reliving the memory. Vic could only guess at his facial expressions and body language; his voice however told her more than her eyes ever could. She could hear the pain, sadness, despair, sweetness, love, hope, guilt, self-doubt, trust, and anger. 'Martha must have been some woman' she thought 'and she sure left you in a mess' Vic didn't fault the woman just the situation that had set Walt on this soul wrenching journey; a road of guilt, hate, and revenge.

The breaks in his voice revealed his heartbreak and anguish. Vic forced herself to stay put and let him talk to get it all out. No matter how badly she wanted to hold him and comfort him she didn't dare move. She had never heard him talk so long and his momentum was tenuous. Any disruption would run the risk of his shutting down; shutting her out and she just couldn't take that risk it wouldn't be fair to him or her. Not that she believed in the touchy-feely benefits of talking things out, but keeping all of it inside had obviously not been working for Walt. He began talking about little reminiscences he had of Martha and the little things that would bring him up short when he would least expect it. The pauses grew longer and longer between each memory. Vic methodically packed up all the evidence and her equipment and made several trips to pack everything into the back of the Bronco.

She listened carefully to Walt describe the way Martha would do or say this or that and how seeing or hearing someone else would make him hold his breath and will his heart to keep beating. He told her how Martha had loved to leave notes for him in his books, books he couldn't bring himself to touch let alone open and read for more than a year after she died. Walt explained how he used to read to Martha in the evenings sometimes and if he stumbled across one of her notes she'd make him read it out loud and then cheekily tell him how lucky he was his wife loved him that much.

He talked about how Martha could cook and bake up a storm when the mood struck, but no how matter how many times she tried she could never get a cake to turn out without most of it sticking to the pan. She loved fried potatoes with bacon and onions but could never cook them the way she liked; well browned and slightly firm. Hers either turned out half mushy and half burned, or cooked very pale except for those stuck to the bottom of the pan. Vic heard the smile in his voice has he talked about how upset Martha would get over a pan of potatoes. The smile remained as he recounted how she hated meatloaf with a passion but fixed it often because it was one of his favorites. Then she heard the smile dissipate as he admitted it was something he had not been able to bring himself to eat since she died.

While loading the Bronco Vic noticed Walt sounded like he was winding down, she slowed her pace so she wouldn't rush him or cause him to stop before he was ready. As she carried the last of the items to his truck she listening to him as he explained why he had had much experience sleeping on his couch. She remembered him mentioning it when she had spent the night there. The night Lizzie showed up unannounced, jump to all kinds of conclusions, and then embarrassingly raked Walt over the coals. Vic focused her attention on his words and not her memories. Walt described how he couldn't sleep in his bed, could barely deal with entering his bedroom for clothes and to reach the bathroom for the first six months or so after he lost Martha. He said he had gotten into the habit of sleeping on his living room or office couches and showering at the station. There were still times now that he would walk into his bedroom and be over so overcome with a sense of loss and loneliness he would retreat to the couch and sleep there for the night.

Walt was silent when Vic returned to pick up the trauma kit. As she knelt down to close and latch the kit, she waited to see if he would say anything more. In order to stall and give him time she organized a few of the items and neatly repacked several others. Walt said nothing more so she closed and latched the kit and then stood to look at him for the first time since he had started speaking. Vic had been wondering what she would say to him but when she saw his face she knew there were no words. She held his gaze with hers and stepped over to him. When she wrapped her arms around him, Wall leaned down slightly to except her embrace; he put his arms around her and held on as he allowed Vic to hug him.

He wasn't as shaken or as emotional as he had been earlier when she had held him and soothed his pain but he still felt raw and welcomed the comfort she offered. Drawing her a little closer Walt tilted his face into her neck and breathed in the scent of her; each inhale, of the smell that was uniquely Vic, seemed to strengthen and reassure him at the same time.

He heard Vic say, "Thank you."

Without moving he murmured, "For what?" against the soft skin below her ear.

"Trusting me with your memories of Martha."

Walt nodded his face against her neck. They held each other for some time; how long neither knew nor particularly cared. Knowing they had things to do Walt sighed and reluctantly pulled his head up, gently sliding his cheek past Vic's as he leaned back to look at her. He held her gaze as he brought his hand up and stroked his index finger along the same path his cheek had just taken, "Kiss me?"

He had asked so softly Vic would have thought she had imagined it except that she had seen his lips move. She leaned into him and gently touched her lips to his he matched her pressure but neither attempted to deepen the kiss. Vic eased back from the chaste kiss and look at him as she brought her hand up to caress the side of his face. She searched his eyes for a moment, seeing his vulnerably and sensing his need for reassurance she leaned in and kissed him again just as gently as before. Walt's arms drew around her a little tighter causing her to deepen the kiss a little bit. His lips were soft and warm and she could feel his hands pressing against her back, drawing her to him. Vic slid her hands up and pushed her fingers into the hair that rested on the top of his collar, she kissed him a little firmer and more intimately. Again Walt responded by matching what he received but he did not deepen the kiss. So she did nothing else to deepen kiss or make any attempt to advance their physical connection.

Vic extended the kiss, a little longer than the last, savoring the sweet gentle intimate contact with Walt; it seemed to her that he was doing the same thing. Moments later she reluctantly started to break the kiss, she felt him lean into her slightly as she moved her lips away from his, and then he drew his head back too.

Walt inhaled slowly and deeply before whispering, "Thank you."

Vic gave him a small smile and then leaned her forehead against his chest as she slid her hand from his neck down to her pocket. She reached in, took the Bronco keys out, and then lifted her hand up to his arm she slid it back down a short distance until she could slip the keys into his hand. "I think we should get going."

Walt grasped her fingers briefly as he took the keys from her, pressed a light kiss on the top of her head, and quietly said, "Yeah."

Once they were settled in the Bronco Vic said, "We need to check in with Ruby." Walt pulled the mic from the clip and handed it to her. She looked at him as she took the mic, after a moment Walt turned his face her, she acknowledge the look of reluctance in his eyes, "Right." Vic took care of checking in with Ruby, telling her they were on their way in and would explain what had happened when they got to the office.

They said nothing more until they were only a mile or so away from the office. Walt glanced at Vic's wedding ring before returning his eyes to the road, "About the kissing, there uh, was _no_ problem, Vic… But uh, it's probably not a good idea again…" he eyes fell to her ring again as he added, "for a while" before looking at her.

Vic looked from his face, down to her ring, and back to him and then simply nodded her understanding.


End file.
